


My Mother Always Told Me...

by savvybby (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 1920's-1940's, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, BAMF John, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Gangs, Goodfellas - Freeform, Gun Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/savvybby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I felt the need to vomit, I couldn't even look at him. It was disgusting. The way I let him carry me along like a fool, I felt dirty, like someone had me sit in garbage and after a while it just sunk into my skin and began to pump through my blood. I stood unsteadily and tried to walk toward the bathroom.</p><p>"Sherlock please just listen!" He grabbed my arm in a vice grip.</p><p>"Don't touch me!" I pulled away like he had burned me.</p><p>"Don't you even dare act like this!" I Looked to him confused and hurt. What the hell does he mean! But before I can ask he's already reading my mind and answering my questions. Still even when I can barely stand him, we somehow coincide in perfect harmony never missing a beat.</p><p>"Like this is so astounding to you, like its so wrong! I'm a criminal for Christ sake, What did you expect?! And don't think I know about you." I stood silent and gaped at him. </p><p>He knew.</p><p>"Yeah Sherlock...I knew. I've known for a while now, and still I stayed here anyways and excepted it....."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Under 2 Hours

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't decide what time period I wanted so I just kept it very vague, just think Gangster Squad and Goodfellas. I put in the tags Goodfellas only because there will be some scenes you might recognize from the movie, but be aware that this is not a replica of that movie. The characters do not belong to me. All mistakes are mine and mine only. Enjoy!

Bullets ring around the room, hitting walls and furniture, always missing the body’s that were shooting back. Obviously rookies. I hadn’t shot yet; if I had they’d all be dead already. I liked seeing them have false hope, thinking they’ve got me and my boys. Ha! If only they knew. Well they’re about to.

 

From behind the bar I cock my gun getting it ready. I turn my head and look at my best mate Bill, giving him a mischievous grin. He laughs back. Bill knows too, they were in for it now. I lift up from my crouch and point my gun at one of the men. One second he’s turning his gun to me the next he’s on the ground with a hole in his forehead. I shoot three other guys, there’s two left and they’ve spread out thinking that one or the other will get me down. I aim for the guy on the right and he’s down before the other can even comprehend what’s going on. The man on the left points his gun toward my head and pulls the trigger.

 

He’s out of bullets.

 

I smile real big and shoot him dead. Slowly Bill gets up and surveys the room. Examining each corpse until he comes to the last body. He looks to me and whistles slow looking around the room again.

 

“And that’s why they call you One Shot Watson.” He walks around the bar and picks his way across the room to the front door. “Come on, I’ll call in some of the boys to clean this up.”

 

Once I’m to the front door we walk to my car and drive back to the Main House. That’s where we usually meet up before and after our ‘assignments’, usually to split the goods we got or to regroup if we ended up failing (which rarely ever happened). It took us about twenty minutes to get there and by the time I was out of the car I was exhausted, I hadn’t had a break in two weeks, running around having to pull my gun out at every corner. It was dangerous and risky, but I loved it. This is what I lived for, the gun shots, the money, the girls, and the power. Being able to walk down the street and know no one will fuck with you. Knowing that if they do, they’ll never make it past the night. Yes this lifestyle may be what you’d consider…’bad’ but imagine living like I do. Getting paid more than £400,000 every month, getting to pick from the hundreds of girls throwing themselves at you, walking into a shop and every employee scurrying to help you, And the power! The influence you had on everyone who wasn’t with your group, you could make an elderly man do the jive with the snap of your fingers. It was pure bliss.

 

Now there was the downside to it though. Yes you got a load of money, but in most cases you had to spend it on new housing arrangements and new cars so the police wouldn’t find you. Yeah you had girls throwing themselves at you, but a lot of times they got attached, not wanting to let go of the good life they had and sometimes if you were stupid enough you married them and had kids. Once that happens, you’re screwed. Most of the boys wait till they got the right girl, one that can keep up with what’s going on in the family business and won’t cry over spilt milk like most of the other whores would. But getting settled down with someone is a whole nother story for a whole nother day. And okay it’s understandable, you had power, authority you could say. But sometimes someone could get a little bit carried away and get the whole group sacked or get someone killed, sometimes you got to know when to use it and _who_ to use it on; there have been more than one occasion where someone wielded there power on the wrong person (a cop or gang member from another group) and things got a bit nasty. Life with the Mob wasn’t the safest route to go but for me it was the best.

 

                When we walked in we were met with cheers and shouts of joy from the crowd inside. They put a glass of scotch in my hand and clapped me on the back. I looked around confused, trying to infer what they were excited about.

 

“What’s going on?” I looked around again asking  them, I start to sip my drink when one of the men speaks.

 

“Ha-ha! You didn’t hear mate? You’re up to be made!”

 

“Wha-what?!”  I choke on my drink.

 

“Well they haven’t actually made the decision yet, but they’ve been talking about it.” Another person commented.

 

“Oh Johnny I’m so proud of you!” A woman came forward and hugged me. She had big poufy bleach blond hair and way to much make-up on, she wore a tight pink dress and heels that made her skyrocket to the ceiling. She spoke with a thick cockney accent; it kind of reminded me of Eliza Doolittle from Oliver but more high pitched.

 

“Mary! Love I thought we told you to go home!” Bill said laughing and taking another swig of scotch from his glass.

 

“I wouldn’t miss being one of the first to congratulate 'im.” Still holding on to my shoulders from the hug she turns her head and speaks directly into my face. “I ‘ave a gift for you too.”

 

I could smell the stench of alcohol on her tongue and a hint of cigarette smoke. She wobbled a bit while still leaning on me. “Mary you really didn’t have to.”

 

“Oh it was nufin’! I ‘ad my muvva to come wif me to the shop on the corner near the station and we got you a few fings. Want me to go get ‘em”

 

“ No No No, it’s alright dear. You can show them to me later when you’re a little less inebriated.”  I gave her a squeeze on the shoulders and gently moved her off of me.

 

“Where did you hear this from?” I asked turning to the man who had told me the news, his name was Roderick I think?

 

“Well me and Sydney-“he points to one of the big haired girls in the room who’s now talking to Mary.  “we were walkin’ past the Boss’ room and ‘e was ‘avin a meetin with all the other Bosses from all over, you know like Don from Wales, Big Eddie from Ireland, Tommy fro-“  

 

“Alright alright I get it; he had all the big guys at the meeting.” I stopped him from listing on.

 

“Okay well, we was walkin’ and the door was cracked so me and my Syd decided to do some investingatin’ like the real detectives on the telly. When we was listenin we hears them talkin’ ‘bout choosing Bosses to help them out. Like they’d still be there to be the main Boss but they’d ‘ave a partner boss to ‘elp ‘em out-“

 

“Like a Co-Boss”

 

“Yea like that, and we ‘eard _The Boss_ tell them that he already ‘as someone in mind and that someone is _you_!”

 

“You sure you heard that correctly, cause we know you aren’t the sharpest tool in the box.” Bill gave him a smile as he said this. It was true though, Roderick really was…kind of stupid.

 

“Yea, you can go ask Syd yourself!” He turned away with a huff and grabbed a drink from the table. Bill look to me with his eyebrows raised.

 

“It’s not our fault he’s an idiot.” With that we were laughing and clutching our drinks to keep them steady. We spent the whole night partying and exchanging stories with the crowd, which had more respect for me now and were kissing my ass. I can safely say that if this is what being In the Mob for the rest of my life was going to be like, then I’d take all the faults and bad times with grace.

 

 

***

 

“Really Sherlock? You’re being completely cantankerous.”

 

“And I will continue to be if you refuse to leave me alone!”

 

“Oh stop being so childish and behave.” Mycroft Holmes scolded his younger brother, who was sprawled on the couch glaring daggers at him.

 

“I’m not going.”

 

“Yes you are, whether it’s willingly or forcefully.”  He turns to Sherlock’s bedroom and begins to sift through his closet for a fresh suit. He pulls out a plain black suit, a white button up shirt and braces. He really needed to tidy his room, I should get him a maid. On second thought he might just drive the poor woman insane. He walks back out to the main room and throws the clothing on his brother’s lazy form.

 

“I refuse to get dressed.” I gave an exasperated sigh and rubbed my temples.

 

“I swear Sherlock I’ll call Lestrade and tell him to stop giving you cases for the next month if you don’t just cooperate.”

 

“Just because you and the D.I. are fucking doesn’t mean you have complete control over him you know?” He gave me a mencing look before finally speaking.

 

“You have 20 minutes to be ready before I call my men and have them dress you like a child.” And with that he walks out the door to the apartment and down to the car waiting on him.

 

It took him 5 minutes to get dressed and he spent the last 15 trying to think of a way to get out of this. I mean really, this was preposterous! It’s not like i was that important of an asset to the case. All I’ll be doing is answering questions for the press and trying not to strangle all the high-end clientele when they decide it’d be a great idea to come and have the longest conversation with me. A knock on my door informed me that I probably had a few seconds before they came barging in to treat me like an adolescent. I opened the door and pushed past the burly men expecting them to close my door. It was a 15 minute drive to the place and then I was whisked off to a room full of new reporters and cameras. For 2 hours they asked me questions about the case, about past investigations and about my personal life (to which I gave no comment). Finally we were down to the last question and I was praying it would be a personal one so I wouldn’t have to answer and I could just get up and leave. A young man stood up and held a notepad in his hand, he swallowed nervously and began to speak:

 

“Um, Mister Holmes what are your thoughts on the rise of gang violence in the past year? Will you be involved in any of the investigations?”

 

“What do you mean by rise? I’m not quite sure I’m grasping your first question?”

 

“Well there have been more murders and thefts involving local gangs, Like the Tessconi case this past spring, happening all over London. They seem to be getting more vulgar and fiercer than before, just last week there were two robberies and all the employees were killed on site.” I smirk and look toward the ceiling as if praying to God that the question wasn't so pointless. Which it was.

 

“When they get more interesting maybe I’ll have more to say on it, but at the moment what you’ve just told me sounds awfully dull.” The room erupted into laughter as though I had just told a joke, which I hadn’t. I was being completely serious about me being bored with what he spoke of. Slowly I got up and walked down the stairs of the make-shift stage, I made my way to D.I. Lestrade. He was wearing a fedora and a tan suit that looked like it’d been slept in. He had a shadow of hair across his jaw and he was holding what looked like his fifth cup of coffee.

 

“Never looked better Lestrade.” I smirked and stood to his side while the reporters filed out.

 

“Shut your mouth, alright? It’s been a long night.”

 

“Did you finally get the revalation that Anderson’s a useless imbicile? Or maybe my brother kept you up? I always suspected he wasn’t as vanilla as he seems.” I turn to him with a sardonic expression.

 

“One of these days you’re gonna end up with a black eye and know one would blame me. No unfortunaltly to your dismay none of that happened.” I gave a mock look of disappointment. “Actually it had to do with the oh so boring Gang crime spree going on in London as of late. Maybe you might find some of it to hold your attention.”

 

“Enlighten me.” They begin to walk out of the room behind some of the stray reporters and outside toward Greg’s car.

 

“Well just last night there were eight shootings, all who were involved were killed except the guilty party, and they were all done in a matter of 2 hours. It’s impossible!”

 

“How do you know it was the same people?”

 

“Same bullet casings and they were all killed with just one shot.” They both stop in front of the car. Sherlock furrows his brows, cogitating the information.

 

“They would have had to shoot everybody in under seven minutes to have time to get to the other locations. That's inconceivable... Keep me posted on that, it’s starting to sound interesting.” He turned and walked to the curb to hail a cab. He puzzled over what Greg had told him...

 

Maybe these gang cases weren’t so deadening after all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Mr. Hudson, Call me Mr. Hudson.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock begins to stick his nose into to things he shouldn't, and The Boss decides to take matters into his own hands.

“Sherlock?”

 

“Yes Lestrade?” Then added as an afterthought  “If it’s not at least a 6 I’m not coming.”

 

“Apparent suicide-“

 

“Lestrade…” I groaned, cutting him off. “That’s barely even a 1!”

 

“Just shut up and listen! Look, supposedly they killed themselves bu-“

 

“You don’t think so?”

 

“Not in the least.” I waited a few beats before talking again, this was a least a 7.

 

“I’ll be there in a few.” I put on my coat and went down the stairs of 221 B. It took me longer than usual to get to the station because of traffic, but once I was there I burst into Lestrades office. He looked up surprised and then gave me a viscous glare.

“If you’d be so kind as to wait outside until I’m done Sherlock.” And then I noticed the woman sitting on the other side of his desk. Suspect? Victim?

 

“Who’s this?”

 

“This is Ms. Morstan; she says she has information on some of the gang violence going on.” He waited as if expecting me to leave but I just took the chair next to Ms. Morstan and pulled it over to Lestrade’s side of the desk and gingerly sat down. There was a silence that seemed to be thick with awkward tension.

 

“Look you said it yourself Lestrade, I might find some of this interesting. So Ms. Morstan-“

 

“You can call me Mary.” She smiled flirtatiously and gave me a wink.

 

“Alright Mary, continue where you left off.”

 

“Well Mister, I was with me ‘usband-“

 

“My.”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s my not me.”

 

“Sorry, well me and my ‘usband-“

 

“My husband and I.”

 

“Sherlock just let her finish the goddamn story.” I rolled my eyes and looked to Mary again, studying her, as she spoke again.

 

“My ‘usband and I-“ She gave me an icy glare before continuing. “Was walkin’ into a restaurant and we saw some commotion down the street. So we went to check it out and it was a couple of thugs takin’ this kid, ‘e was about 16, into their van. They ended up driving away before my ‘usband could do anyfing. Oh that poor child! You must save ‘im, you must!” She finished with a swipe at her eyes drying up her tears.

 

“Alright Mrs. Morstan; well if you’d be willing, I’ll be needing you to go over there to Sergeant Donovon and she’ll sort it out more and then we’ll be on it, okay?” As Lestrade spoke I observed Mary some more. She was around 28-29, she was wearing way too much make-up and she was completely illiterate…well not completely she could probably read at a first grade level. She seemed like an ordinary woman grown up in the slums of London. But there was something about her, the way she tried so hard, her make-up, her hair, her clothes, the way she spoke, and her body language; It was all so… fake.

 

“Sherlock!” I looked up at Lestrade; his office was empty now except for me and him.

 

“I’m not gonna have you sit here for hours thinki-“

 

“She’s lying.”

 

“What?” I gave an exasperated sigh; he knows I don’t like to repeat myself.

 

“She. Is. Lying.”

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“Give me some time and I’ll figure it out. Keep an eye on her, maybe even tail her, but don’t let her figure out that you know something. She may be a complete idiot when it comes to being book smart, but she’s probably a genius on the streets.” I got up as I spoke and headed out into the hallway and toward the elevators, Lestrade right on my heels trying to keep up.

“Keep me updated.” And with that I walked into the opening elevator.

 

***

 

“It’s been hours, where is she?”

 

“Bill just calm down, you know how the met works.” I tried to appease him.

 

“Yeah incredibly fucking slow.”

 

“Well once she’s done, we’ll have those thugs from Westwood’s gang taken care of. No more worrying about them fucking up our jobs.” He huffs and sips the tonic he’d drinking, before looking at me to speak.

 

“I guess you’re right…”

 

“John, The Boss wants to see you.” Sarah says popping her head into the room. I clapped Bill on the back and walked over to Sarah following her to The Boss’ office. It was a grand décor, Egyptian rugs and Italian leather furniture; He had paintings hung on the walls that were probably priceless. And probably stolen. I walked over to his big mahogany desk and sat in one of the chairs, his ginormous seat was facing away from me and slowly it turned around to reveal a big burly man in his early sixties and balding. He wore a grey pin striped suit and was smoking a Cuban cigar, he sat silent for a moment before giving me a knowing smile and barking out a laugh.

 

 

“Oh my Johnny boy! Your goin’ places son, you really are…” He stood quiet still smiling. 

 

“I’m sorry sir but I don’t think I-“

 

“Don’t give me that bullshit! You know exactly what I’m talking about, I wasn’t born yesterday sonny I know the whole crews been spreading it around like forest fire. Can’t keep a secret in this damn place...” he trails off and takes a puff of his cigar. “Now none of this is gonna happen soon, I’ve still got a whole lot of shit to take care of first, but right now I need you to go on a job for me. Real important one.”

 

“Whatever you need Boss.”

 

“It’s an undercover job, alright? There’s this man, a detective of sorts… He’s been starting some commotion as of late. About to start digging a little deeper into what we do here...” He took another drag from his smoke and lifted a manila folder passing it my way. It was thick, full of papers and photos of a man. He had sharp eyes, prominent cheekbones and a head full of curls. He looked like a male model rather than a detective.

 

“Sir I don’t understand why exactly you need me? He’s just another member of the met; we can trail him off our scent easily.” He laughed at that and stubbed out his cigar.

 

“Do not be fooled my boy, this man is extremely dangerous.” His expression was grave; it made him look much older than what he was. I looked down at the photo again and then read the name written on the tab of the folder.

 

  _Sherlock Holmes._

 

“Why?” I asked genuinely curious.

 

“This is the man who put me in jail and almost had me executed…” My head shot up and I stared bewildered at him.

 

“He’s only-“ I look down at the page to confirm my information. “-thirty-six! He’d have to have only been eighteen? You’re telling me this man, alone, almost took you down?” Boss nodded.

 

“When do you want me to start?” My fierce loyalty swam to the surface; I was enraged, furious even. How could this man, only a young boy at the time, Taken down a man of the Boss’ stature in society and not gotten any consequences?

 

“Now Now, I don’t want you to kill him just yet. I need you to get in there and find out as much information that you can, anything that I can use against him. I want him to have a slow downfall, and then as he’s begging for forgiveness…I’ll kill him.” I smiled dangerously at him and closed the folder.

 

“I’m your man Boss.”

 

“You’ll start tomorrow, Good luck my boy.”

 

“Thank you sir.” I stood and walked to the door, but before I could exit The Boss spoke again.

 

“Watson?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“You’re going to be a Boss soon, no need to address me as Sir and such.”

 

“Then what should I call you?”

 

“Mr. Hudson, You can call me Mr. Hudson.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment, I really do appreciate it! Don't care if it's good or bad, I like feedback either way.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably post sort of sporatically but they with always come within a two to three week time period. I do appreciate comments, good or bad, so please give me feedback.


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